Career goals aside, I haven’t had a moment to think about what I want from Barrett in return for me agreeing to be his fake girlfriend. Not that I agreed. But, if he’s offering something in return, I want to take full advantage of it.

That’s when it hits me. I pull out my notebook and jot down the only thing I’ve been able to think of.

“Have you been waiting long?” His deep voice pulls my attention upward. There’s suddenly a chill in the air. You could argue that the restaurant kicked on the air conditioning, but I’m seated on the patio, so it’s likely the chilly visage of my lunch companion.

Besides his text to meet him here for lunch today, we haven’t talked since JoAnna’s office on Monday morning. It’s perfectly normal, that’s more communication than we’ve had in the last two years, but the fact that my thoughts have been wandering to him at least a thousand times since Monday morning is highly problematic.

“Do you care if I’ve been waiting long or does your upbringing require you to ask?”

My snark rolls right off Barrett’s Italian designer suit. Meaning he ignores my dig and stands silent, yet confident until I respond in the manner he deems appropriate. I hate that I know him that well.

“No, I was working.”

“I prefer to sit inside,” he says, still standing.

“Said no one ever on a beautiful afternoon in June.”

Now it’s his turn to ignore me.

He nods to my list. Before I can shove it back in my bag, Barrett has it in his hands.

“You want me to attend the Books 4 Kids event,” he reads, dropping into the chair across from me. “That’s all? An appearance at a children’s charity book event? Easy. Done.”

I snatch the paper back, hating that my only request was so easily fulfilled.

“No, that’s not all,” I say defiantly, hoping I can come up with something else in the next five seconds. My mind goes blank. “Okay. That’s all I could think of off the top of my head. That’s because I don’t even know what my options are. It’s like going to an ice cream shop and they have the glass cases covered. I can pick chocolate because every ice cream shop has chocolate but I might be missing out on raspberry chocolate chunk cheesecake because I didn’t even know it was a possibility.”

“Raspberry chocolate chunk cheesecake,” he repeats. “Is that your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“No, I made it up. Or maybe it does exist, but I wouldn’t select it out of the case if it were there. It’s a metaphor for something more elaborate than basic chocolate. I’m more of a cookie dough fan.”

He wrinkles his nose.

“You hate cookie dough ice cream?” I ask.